Lily's Charm: The Gift

Chapter 36: In Memorium

1996

Harry's fingers curled around the cup of tea as soon as Severus put it into his hand.

"Thanks," Harry murmured thickly, his voice clogged from the long crying spell. His other hand was wound around the flannel which Severus had given him for his eyes; they were still red, the eyelids puffy. His head was resting in the crook of his elbow; his eyes staring blankly at the light blue patterning of the cup in his hand.

Harry closed his eyes as Severus ran his fingers lightly through his dark hair. "Do you feel better?" he asked quietly. Harry nodded against his arm, his eyes opening again and this time focusing on Severus; Severus smiled softly at him. "Perhaps a few sips of tea would help to ease your throat."

Harry lifted his head from his arm, but instead of drinking the tea, he stared into its milky depths. "I wanted to bring Sirius back," he finally whispered. Severus put his hand over Harry's, giving his son's wrist a gentle squeeze.

"I know."

Harry's eyes came up; round and surprised.

"Your thoughts were filled with anticipation whenever we spoke of your godfather today," Severus elaborated. "I realized you were likely intending to do some research into the subject when I came into your room, and you were pretending to sleep." He fingered James' cloak which was sitting in a heap of shimmery fabric in the middle of the table. "You were going to the restricted section of the library?"

To Severus' surprise, Harry dropped his head, face down, onto his arm. Harry mumbled something into his sleeve, and though Severus couldn't understand the words, he did feel both the guilt and the anxiety radiating in spades from his son; Harry was too exhausted to keep much of a hold on his shields.

Severus put his hand again on Harry's head, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly into Harry's scalp. "What was that?" he queried. Harry lifted his head a little, though he didn't turn to look at Severus.

Severus could hear him swallowing. "I..." Severus' hand slid down to Harry's neck, where he squeezed comfortingly. Harry finally turned to look at him, and when he spoke, it was so quietly that Severus had to bend his head close to Harry's in order to hear him.

"I was going to the Department of Mysteries..."

Severus' head snapped up, and without meaning to, he clamped his fingers around the back of Harry's neck. "You were-!" He released his hold abruptly, finally noticing that Harry was cringing. He stared at Harry as he pulled his hand away slowly, trying to process what Harry had just said. "You meant to..." His voice came out in a strangled hiss.

For the first time in almost as long as he could remember, Severus was without words. But he didn't need to finish speaking. The misery in Harry's face answered the questions Severus couldn't seem to ask. "How..." Severus trailed off, still unable to form a proper sentence.

"Dobby," Harry whispered thickly; he hunched his shoulders down so far that they were almost touching the tabletop. Severus shook his head, confused as to what a house-elf could possibly have to do with Harry attempting to retrieve Black-- Severus couldn't even finish the thought. And it seemed Harry couldn't continue with whatever he was trying to explain.

Severus cupped Harry's chin in his hand, turning his son's head so that Harry was looking him in the eye. Harry understood what Severus wanted, and didn't resist, seemed almost grateful that he wouldn't have to speak. Severus' flames surged into Harry's mind, and he was suddenly seeing everything that Harry had seen in the last forty-eight hours--feeling everything Harry had felt.

Horrible pain consumed Severus...grief and sadness swelled through Harry's storm, and then all of it was pushed away. Sirius' face was shoved below the darkest depths of Harry's mind. Harry pretending that it didn't hurt--that it didn't matter that his godfather had died a second time.

Plans...

Hermione's letter explaining what Harry intended to do--Severus' own name on the parchment, instead of Harry's. Desperate words to Ron...Dobby appearing in Harry's room, and once again... this time with a decrepit book in his hands.

An ancient rite--an incantation.

Motu Proprio...scrawled by Harry's own hand on the back of Hermione's letter.

Motu Proprio--of one's own initiative....

Severus' flames reacted violently, and before Severus was fully aware of what he had done, he had pulled his thoughts from Harry's and was towering over his son--his face livid.

Harry's eyes, fogged from the mental intrusion, cleared slowly, and as the anger coursed through Severus' veins, he pivoted abruptly away before his fury could be unleashed without his permission.

Severus' hands grasped the stone mantle as he tried to still his anxious breaths. Of one's own initiative. Death, by one's own hand. Harry would have chanted the ancient ritual of suicide.

"Dad..."

Severus closed his eyes at his son's tormented query. He forced his heart rate to still its frantic pace. Harry hadn't meant to choose that ritual...and he was safe...safe in Severus' own quarters, sitting at their table.

He was safe.

As if to convince himself, Severus turned slowly; his throat tightened as his eyes fell once more on his son. Harry's eyes were bright now, his eyebrows and lips puckered with worry. Severus took the two steps back to the table and slowly sagged, defeated, back into his chair. But it wasn't enough, and before Severus knew he needed it, Harry was back in his arms again.

Severus realized that Harry could likely feel his heart's rapid rhythm through his dressing gown. But if Harry was alarmed by it, he didn't let on; he simply returned the embrace, his head resting in exhaustion on Severus' shoulder.

And though Severus didn't want to cause his son any more distress, he could not allow Harry to believe that what he had been about to attempt could have been even remotely successful, Severus put his hands on Harry's shoulders and pulled him back a bit, though he kept his hands in place.

"There is no way to retrieve your godfather from the Veil," he began quietly, applying firm pressure against Harry's shoulders. "He is not there." Harry flinched at the blunt words. "We were only able to retrieve him once because he was whole when he fell through." Severus' throat tightened again as Harry fought to keep his face from crumpling. "I am sorry, Harry," he said in a voice deep with pain. "I know you loved him, but he cannot come back."

Harry let out a rickety breath. "I know," he said shakily. He dropped his head so that his cheek was resting against Severus' forearm; Severus twisted his arm so that his fingers were wound lightly through Harry's hair. "I didn't want to believe it," Harry said, the words vibrating against Severus' wrist.

"It is difficult to accept that death is permanent," Severus agreed.

Harry nodded against his arm. "I thought..." he swallowed noisily, "...I thought that he could just step through the Veil again and everything would be all right." He was quiet for a minute. "I wanted you and Sirius reconcile...everything," he finally admitted.

Guilt settled in Severus' chest. "He saved my life," he said, his voice rough with unbidden emotion. "He sacrificed himself for you. I will be forever grateful for that, Harry." The words were easier to say than he would have believed.

Harry lifted his head from Severus' arm. He was smiling, just a little. "He would have liked to hear that..." Harry's voice shook; Severus took his son's hands in his own.

"If I could tell him, I would," he assured Harry quietly. Harry nodded, his eyes shiny once more.

The small, weighty acknowledgement settled between them. And in the short silence that followed, Severus vanished the cold tea from Harry's cup and poured him fresh, adding milk and honey, just the way Harry liked it.

"Take a sip," he directed. "It has a calming agent in it."

Harry obediently lifted the delicate cup to his lips, and took several sips. He held the gently steaming cup just below his chin as he watched Severus pouring himself a fresh cup as well. After Severus had taken several sips of his own, and had allowed the warm liquid to begin to soothe his frayed nerves, he pinned his son with a serious look. Somehow, Harry sensed the change in mood; he sat up a little straighter.

"You're angry," he deduced quietly, casting his eyes down to his tea. Severus debated briefly whether to answer that query honestly.

"I was shocked to discover you had taken a spell from one of the books in the restricted section," Severus answered. Harry looked up, obviously sensing the evasion. "And angry, yes," Severus conceded. Harry bit his lip, but before he could apologize, Severus added softly, unable to completely banish the gruff anxiety from his voice, "That spell you copied from that old book is not the same spell Albus used when we retrieved your godfather from the Veil."

"It's not?" Harry asked in confusion. Severus pursed his lips as he shook his head.

"It is an ancient suicide rite."

Harry's red-rimmed eyes widened. "What? I..." he floundered, and then pushed himself up abruptly from his chair. "Stupid," he muttered finally, beginning to pace agitatedly in front of the sofa. "Hermione said it wouldn't work, and I didn't even care." He gave Severus a pained look as he came to an abrupt halt. "I didn't even try to make sure that spell was the right one...would it really have...?"

Severus nodded curtly; the thought of what Harry had almost done making him feel ill. He could have, perhaps, retrieved Harry from the Veil, as he had done Black, if he could have figured out where Harry had gone. But if Harry had used that spell...

Severus stood so quickly, his chair nearly toppled; he righted it with a shaky hand, and held his other hand out. "May I have the parchment?" he queried, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.

Harry, paler now, withdrew the folded square of parchment from his pocket. His fingers were trembling as he passed it to Severus.

Severus unfolded it swiftly. The words leapt out at him, gouging him for a second time. Motu Proprio.

Severus crushed the parchment with one twist of his wrist. He sent it to the grate at the bottom of the fireplace, and with a wordless, wandless spell, the parchment went up in flames. Severus watched the fire blazing until the parchment was gone.

Severus turned back to Harry, his emotions equalized once more. Harry was sitting on the sofa, his hands hanging between his knees; his head bowed. Though Severus could only see a small part of Harry's face, he could tell his complexion was waxy; his color more gray than simply pale. Severus walked over to the sofa and sat carefully next to his son. Harry didn't look up as the cushions were disturbed.

"I almost killed myself," he said to the floor.

Severus decided it would be cruel to agree, so he simply pulled Harry's head back to his chest, trying to comfort him with that small gesture. Harry snuffled out a short sigh, but leant into the support without hesitation, both of them resting their backs against the cushions.

"You should ground me for the rest of my life," Harry said softly, not sounding put-out by the idea. "Keep me from doing anything stupid," he muttered.

"You didn't go through with your plan," Severus reminded him, carding his fingers lightly through Harry's hair, and realizing as he did that he was still trying to reassure himself that Harry was safe. And whole.

"I didn't have a plan," Harry said, sounding mildly disgusted with himself now.

"You stopped yourself before you did anything foolish," Severus said, in an attempt to ease the self-deprecation he could feel looming in his son's mind. Though foolish was hardly an appropriate word for what Harry had almost done. Harry didn't respond right away, and Severus allowed him his stretch of silence.

"Only because I knew you would be upset," he finally said, sounding stuffy again.

"Upset," Severus repeated thinly, "hardly begins to describe the state my emotions would have been in, had I found you gone."

"I know," Harry answered, and Severus thought he was trying to discreetly swipe at his nose with his sleeve. "I knew it was a stupid thing to do, and I...didn't want to disappoint you again."

Inaccurate though the word disappoint was as well, Severus understood, and despite the atmosphere, and the dull ache of pain he could still feel radiating from Harry, Severus was warmed by the words. And even though Harry had not aborted his plan on its sheer folly, at least he had reconsidered simply because he knew that his father would have wanted it that way.

It was progress.

Despite the fact that Harry could not see his face, Severus smiled and brushed Harry's fringe away from his eyes. "And you have not," he assured him warmly. Harry lifted his head, and somewhere, in those deep green eyes, so filled with sadness, warmth echoed back at him.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Harry shifted a little so that he was sitting upright, shrugging a little as Severus attempted to figure out what Harry was thanking him for. "For lots of things," Harry added, obviously guessing the reason for Severus' puckered brow.

"Hmm," Severus mused, "perhaps for not locking up James' cloak for the duration of your time at Hogwarts?" he suggested, his eyebrow quirking. Not that Severus really had any such notion, but surely a bit of a warning would not go amiss.

"Er, yeah...right," Harry said, recovered enough to look sheepish at the light admonishment.

"However, since my trust is important to you, I believe you will wish to use the cloak in a responsible manner in future," Severus said, though he did grace his son with a bit of a hard look, just for good measure. Harry nodded immediately. "And," Severus continued, since Harry was not protesting, "I think you realize that using a house-elf to access the restricted section is inappropriate as well?"

Harry cringed at that. "Yeah..." He glanced down at his fingers as they absently picked at the hem of his right sleeve. "I mean it sounds completely mental now...all of it." He shook his head, suddenly dropping his wrist and resting his forearms on his knees. He turned his face up to Severus. "But it didn't seem that way earlier...it was perfectly reasonable..." His face twisted; obviously struggling again not to cry.

"Do not try to fight your grief," Severus advised, settling his hand once more on the top of Harry's head. Harry's lower lip began to quiver a little; a few tears slipped past his cheeks. He didn't swipe at them.

"Why did he have to die?" he asked, his voice small and miserable as he stared at Severus.

"I do not know," Severus answered regretfully. Why did anyone have to die? Too many, now, to count.

"But I only just got him back..."

"I know," Severus answered softly, not knowing what he could possibly say to ease Harry's pain.

"And most of the time, we were at odds...if I had known-" Harry's breath hitched, and his shoulders began to shake. Severus bent to retrieve his son, wrapping his arms around him as he cried. The tears were largely silent, just as they had been when Severus had first come in, but this time Harry's tremors were much less violent.

"You could not have known."

Severus said no more, allowing Harry to cry out the grief of the unpleasant memories, wishing as he sat there with Harry beside him, that he, himself, had made a better effort with Black.

Wishing that he had not spent so much time dwelling on a past that could not be changed, and had instead accepted Black's place in his son's life. But as he had just told Harry, neither of them could have known what was to come. There was no point to these recriminations--neither for himself, nor for Harry.

Harry's tremors were beginning to ease, and Harry was sniffling quietly. Severus quietly called for a handkerchief from his bedroom, and handed it to his son; Harry mopped up his tears quickly.

"What do you remember best about your godfather?" Severus asked as Harry scrunched the handkerchief into a tight ball in his fist, hoping to move Harry towards healing.

Harry straightened up creakily. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked even more exhausted than he had earlier. His shoulder rested heavily against Severus' as he thought about his answer. His mouth finally transformed into a soft smile.

"Flying with Buckbeak." He stretched his legs out, settling more comfortably as he added, "He was really happy then, and I remember thinking that he enjoyed flying, just like I did."

"And a few times," Harry went on, in a voice which was trying to break through the clog of too many tears, "during the summer last year and during the Christmas hols, he and Remus and I would sit and chat in Sirius' room...they'd tell me stories about mum and James, or they'd ask me questions and just let me talk about nothing, really..." He glanced at Severus. "Like we do," he said, his smile widening just a little.

Severus returned the smile, enjoying the thought that he provided Harry with something that Harry had enjoyed with Black--had been providing it all along, in fact.

"He and Remus gave me a set of defense books that Christmas," Harry said, as if just remembering. "Since we were running the D.A..." Harry's forehead creased with thought; he turned his head toward the Floo. "Do you think Remus is doing all right?" He frowned. "I really shouldn't have been so prickly with him yesterday..."

"Albus told me he was faring better, yes," Severus answered. "He would most likely enjoy a visit from you, whenever you wish to see him," he added, remembering Albus' words about Lupin needing comfort beyond Tonks. Harry would be a much better choice than he, himself, would be, no matter what Albus had suggested. And Harry would benefit from a visit as well.

Harry sighed.

"We could take a walk to his quarters, if you wish," Severus suggested, sensing that a full session of reminiscing would be extremely helpful to Harry.

Harry's eyes strayed to the clock on the mantel. "It's only ten-thirty? I thought it was well past midnight when I came out here..."

Severus made no comment on Harry's haste to get to the Department of Mysteries, or the fact that he had so obviously misjudged the time in his hurry.

"You don't think it's too late?" Harry asked, though he was already shifting toward standing. Severus shook his head, and it seemed that was all the encouragement Harry needed. Severus was heartened to see enthusiasm from him. He stood as well, though he eyed Harry's pajamas.

"Would you like to get dressed?" Severus inquired with amusement.

"I'll get a sweatshirt," Harry said with a shrug, and then gave Severus a pointed look, a small smirk adorning his otherwise somber features. "You might want to change though."

Severus glanced down at himself, momentarily surprised to find himself in a dressing gown and bare feet. But that was easily fixed. Severus simply pulled his wand from his sleeve and in an instant he was neatly dressed, including appropriate footwear.

"Would you do me, as well?" Harry asked, tugging on the front of his pajama shirt. Severus smiled quietly and complied, transfiguring it into a heavy sweatshirt. "Thanks."

Severus nodded; together, they left their quarters and at a leisurely pace, began to climb their way to the main floor of the castle.

--

Harry glanced over at his father as they walked through Hogwarts' main halls, with Severus' Lumos bobbing along in front of them. It was very odd--he wasn't quite sure how to describe it--the way he was feeling now. Like he'd come out of some sort of fog. It wasn't a pleasant feeling though, not at all. There was a heavy ache in his chest, but the rest of his limbs felt lighter than they had in days. And he felt like he could breathe again.

Harry could also see with mortifying clarity just how off he'd been in the past few days--how daft he'd been. He had no idea how he could have thought that he could simply step through the Veil and bring Sirius back, nice as you please. And he'd written a letter to Hermione, actually asking her for help! He really couldn't blame her for writing to his father.

As Harry re-read her anxious letter in his mind, he remembered that there had been more in Hermione's letter than just worry over him. He was mildly hesitant to bring up the post again--both because of the spell he'd written on the back of it, and because he'd stolen the letter in the first place; he shivered slightly at the thought of the spell he'd taken from that old book.

"In her letter," Harry began, and was relieved as his father turned his eyes to him, without a trace of reproach in their black depths, "Hermione asked if there was a way she could come for...Sirius' funeral."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. "I am certain Albus could secure an international Portkey for her...Hermione's parents, as well, if they wish to accompany her."

Harry smiled, not because his father had said there would be a way for Hermione to come, but because his father had actually called his friend by her first name...he realized a moment later, that he had referred to Ron by his first name as well, at the Weasleys. It had certainly taken him long enough!

And though his father hadn't commented that Harry had mentioned a funeral for Sirius, Harry knew his dad was relieved. Harry was relieved in a way, as well. Having a funeral for Sirius seemed right now.

"I didn't realize Muggles could travel by Portkey," he said as they rounded the corner that would bring them to Remus' door.

"Since it is the object which is charmed, it is possible," Severus answered. "Muggles would not be able to travel by Floo, however, unless they were accompanied by a magical being."

Harry nodded at the mini-lesson as they came to a stop in front of the portrait guarding Remus' door. The painting of the wolf, and the full moon was gone, replaced by one of a rather ugly little man, who peered out at them suspiciously from where he was lying on a very uncomfortable looking patch of grass.

"What do you want?" he barked, squinting against Severus' bright Lumos. "It's the middle of the night!"

Severus glowered at the tiny wizard. "Absentis," he snapped. The ugly wizard scowled, but with loud grumbles under his breath, he swung forward. Severus tapped the door handle, and less than a moment later, the door opened. Remus, fully dressed, though with dark circles under his eyes, smiled instantly.

"I trust it is not too late for a visit?" Severus inquired, very politely, Harry thought. Remus shook his head.

"Of course not," he answered, his voice warm despite the clear sadness in his brown eyes. "Please, come in," he invited, stepping back to allow them entrance. Severus gestured Harry forward. Remus closed the door after Severus, and turned his smile back on them. "How are you, Harry?" he asked, the worry overtaking the warmth of his smile.

Harry tried to smile, but seeing Remus, looking so obviously exhausted, even through his welcome, made the effort seem too great. He could feel tears prickling his eyes as he realized how much Remus would miss Sirius--and as he remembered the way Sirius and Remus used to laugh together, every time they spoke of James. Or the way Sirius would grin in that impish way he had, and Remus would smile softly, in subtle amusement or mild exasperation--whichever fit the situation at the moment.

"I..." Whatever Harry wanted to say--and he wasn't even certain himself--got stuck on his tongue. Remus seemed to understand though; his own eyes were shining, and he stepped forward without a word, and wrapped Harry in his arms.

They stood together for quite a long time, as far as Harry could tell, neither of them crying, but still finding comfort in the shared embrace. And when Harry finally pulled back, he could see that some of the exhaustion had left Remus' face.

Harry turned at the sound of glass clinking; Tonks was just handing Severus a small cut-glass tumbler half-full of a dark rose liquid, which he accepted with a small nod. Remus stepped toward Tonks, accepting a glass from her as well.

To Severus, Remus said in a quiet voice, "I apologize for my...emotional display yesterday. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

Severus shook his head slightly. "There is no need to apologize," he returned easily. He glanced at Harry, a small smile curving his lips, and then back at Remus, giving him--well, not a smile, but close. Remus smiled back at him.

Tonks was smiling as well, looking between all of them. Harry allowed her to hug him briefly as well as he stepped to the table. She had already prepared a huge mug of dark cocoa. She glanced at Severus, her hand on the squat bottle of what was obviously alcohol. At his nod, Tonks poured a splash of the liquor into Harry's mug. He took it, grateful for the warmth it brought to his hands.

The quartet stood in a loose circle, and after a moment, Remus cleared his throat. He lifted his glass into the empty space between them.

"To Sirius," Remus said, his voice thick.

Tonks raised her arm, followed by Severus, and then Harry.

"To Sirius," three voices echoed together. Tears stung Harry eyes as all three tumblers, and Harry's mug, clinked together. Harry caught his father's eyes as he brought the mug to his lips. The warm black eyes kept the tears at bay.

Harry smiled as he watched Tonks wrap an arm around Remus' waist and pull him close; Harry took a step toward his father. The tiny splash of alcohol burned down his throat as his dad put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close to his side.

The ache in Harry's chest had not gone away, but it had lessened just a tiny bit. He could see Sirius' face, grinning out at him, and this time, he didn't try to banish the image away. He smiled as he remembered why Sirius had been laughing that time.

He glanced at Remus, who was watching him with his own smile, and decided that Tonks would enjoy hearing the story Sirius had told him that day last summer, knowing that Sirius would have enjoyed Tonks' likely reaction.

"Did Remus ever tell you about the time he served a week's worth of detentions because of a letter he wrote to a professor?" Harry asked. Remus immediately groaned.

"I did not write that letter!" he objected.

"What sort of letter would mean so many detentions?" Tonks asked curiously, as she drifted over to the sofa.

"A letter professing his love," Harry answered as he sat in one of the chairs; Severus sat down in another. Tonks' brown eyebrows shot up.

"You had a crush on a professor?" she asked with a mystified smirk. "Who?"

Remus scowled at Harry as he sat down near Tonks. "I did not," he disagreed, just as Harry answered, "McGonagall."

"Minerva?" Severus echoed, his own eyebrows surging upward.

"McGonagall?!"

Remus' cheeks were flushing faintly, but he gave his best glare to Harry, who simply gazed back innocently as he sipped his cocoa, while Remus attempted to explain.

Yes, Harry decided with a melancholy tug at his heart, Sirius definitely would have enjoyed this.